


of witching hours and safety charms

by earlgrey_milktea



Series: witching magic under citylights [1]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe - Magic, Alternate Universe - Urban Fantasy, Developing Relationship, Domestic Fluff, Fluff, Friendship, M/M, Witches, there's a cat
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-21
Updated: 2017-12-21
Packaged: 2019-02-17 23:07:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,815
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13087353
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/earlgrey_milktea/pseuds/earlgrey_milktea
Summary: Tetsurou likes taking the last train home. It leaves at twelve am, on the dot. The witching hour, Yaku calls it. His ma would be appalled and nagging about his safety if she knew, but she’s all the way across the country and anyway, he’s a grown man now. Tetsurou has always felt more alive after sundown.kuroo meets a witch in the dead of night, and follows him home.





	of witching hours and safety charms

**Author's Note:**

  * For [corbeod](https://archiveofourown.org/users/corbeod/gifts).



> for the haikyuuwriters secret santa exchange!!  
> prompt was "Fantasy Subway AU: We both frequent a subway and you're a witch who always brings supplies on board. Today you're bringing a cauldron with you and that looks heavy, can I help?"
> 
> i love magic and i've been wanting to try my hand at something urban fantasy-like. this was more subtle than anything, but i hope you'll still like this. happy holidays~

Tetsurou likes taking the last train home. It leaves at twelve am, on the dot. The witching hour, Yaku calls it. His ma would be appalled and nagging about his safety if she knew, but she’s all the way across the country and anyway, he’s a grown man now. Tetsurou has always felt more alive after sundown.

The platform is always near-empty by the time the train comes into sight. There are a few lone businessmen, a random college student in a maroon uniform shirt from a Seven somewhere, the occasional drunk stumbling in just as the doors are closing. For the most part, though, it’s quiet. Eerie.

Tetsurou likes it.

Most of the passengers trickle out within the first few stops. There’s one, though, that stays on the train even after Tetsurou stands to leave. He’s small, at least a head shorter than Tetsurou, and likes to wear large sweaters that make him look even smaller. If they weren’t the only two left on the train, Tetsurou’s eyes would probably slip right off him, badly-dyed blond hair and all. But there’s something about this stranger that draws Tetsurou’s attention. Maybe the flash of intelligent gold eyes he’s barely managed to catch a glimpse of. Or maybe it was the assortment of strange items he brings onboard with him every night.

He radiates with magic.

Despite himself, Tetsurou is curious.

 

 

 

On Tuesday, the witch lugs a tote bag full of large scrolls.

Tetsurou watches from down the train with half-lidded eyes. The boy’s arms aren’t long enough to reach the full way around the scrolls, so the bag trails along the floor. It kind of looks like a child dragging along his favourite teddy bear, only this boy looks half-asleep on his feet and has the stare of someone that knows too much, sees too much.

Tetsurou steps off the train without looking back.

 

 

 

On Wednesday, there’s a plastic box sitting on the seat next to the witch boy. Muffled croaks can be heard.

Tetsurou sits in the centre row, facing the night outside the window. He glances at the back of the witch’s head from time to time. The boy doesn’t seem to notice or care.

The train jolts slightly, and a chorus of croaking echoes through the empty carriage. The boy jumps, turning to tap at the box until the frogs quiet.

Tetsurou slides down until his feet hits the seats across from him. He hides a smile in his hand.

 

 

 

On Thursday, he’s carrying plastic bags from the nearby convenience store. Whatever is in those bags appear heavy, and softly glowing.

Tetsurou yawns from the corner. The boy barely spares him a glance. Leaning his head against the window pane, Tetsurou watches the way reflected city lights trace across that blond-black hair.

It’s pretty, he decides.

 

 

 

On Friday, Tetsurou nearly misses the last train. He slides into the closing doors to find the witch sprawled out in the centre seats, a giant potted plant at his feet. A flash of gold eyes, and then the boy’s turned back to his handheld game.

Tetsurou sits in the corner seat across from the boy and his plant. He plugs in his earphones but turns the volume low enough to hear the witch whispering to the plant like it’s a real person. Tetsurou closes his eyes. For all he knows, the leafy plants could very well be a person. He’s lived in this city long enough to know better.

He tilts his head back, and allows the steady rhythm of the train to lull him into a quiet nap.

 

 

 

Tetsurou doesn’t see the witch boy on the weekends. But he finds himself peering at every corner of the night, doubling back at every head of blond, thinking of magic in a way he’s never allowed himself before. He feeds the stray cats by his shitty apartment and thinks of golden eyes that peer right into his soul.

 

 

 

On Monday, Tetsurou is startled from his phone by something being caught in between the doors. It’s the witch boy, hefting a cauldron half his size onto the train. Tetsurou makes to stand, but the boy has already rolled the cauldron in, doors sliding shut for the second time behind him. He wipes his brow and sighs.

“Are you okay?”

The boy startles, wide eyes flicking up to Tetsurou’s. There’s a strand of blond hair plastered to his cheek. “Yeah,” he says, eyes shifting away quickly. He pushes at the cauldron and shuffles over to a seat in the corner.

Tetsurou watches him go. He stays in his seat on the other side of the train, but he’s thinking. He watches the night roll by outside the window. He stays past his usual stop.

They’re the only two left on the train by the time it rolls into the terminal station. The witch boy is on his feet, struggling to lug the cauldron over to the doors again. Tetsurou takes a breath. He’s already come this far.

“Here,” he says, stepping over. “Let me help.”

He receives a suspicious stare in return. Gold eyes appraise him, from his messy hair to his ripped jeans to his beat up chucks. The automated lady announcer reminds them to leave the train at this terminus station. The boy lets out a heavy sigh. Tetsurou takes this as an invitation.

Together, they lift the cauldron and haul it onto the platform. It’s empty save for the two of them. The lights are almost blinding in the thick darkness around them. The hair on the back of Tetsurou’s head rises in the eerie silence. They’re not out of the city yet, just on the outskirts, but it’s already so much quieter and more still than Tetsurou’s used to. The shadows seem to shift, but almost lazily, without the clamouring whispers in the alleyways Tetsurou has learned to quickly walk past with his head down. It’s foreign territory, here. Tetsurou’s fingers tighten on the lip of the cauldron. If the witch notices, he doesn’t mention it.

The gust of wind trailing through Tetsurou’s hair felt like fingers caressing his head.

“That was the last train,” the witch says.

“I know.”

Gold eyes pin him with a flat stare. “You missed your stop.”

Tetsurou blinks. He doesn’t know how he feels knowing that the other boy notices which stop is his, but then again, they usually are the last two on the train. He shrugs. “That’s fine, I’ll just find somewhere to stay for the night.”

“Huh.”

“Well, since I’m here, I can help you bring this back to—wherever you’re taking this?”

The witch doesn’t answer right away. Tetsurou tries not to squirm under that piercing gaze.

“Fine,” the boy eventually sighs. “Let’s go, then.”

“I’m Kuroo, by the way. Kuroo Tetsurou.”

“You shouldn’t give your name so easily.”

Tetsurou nods. “You’re probably right.” He grins. “So? Are you gonna curse me? Or are you gonna give me your name?”

The witch’s eyes narrow. But he only turns away, lifting the cauldron again. “Kenma,” is all he says.

“Nice to meet you, Kenma.”

 

 

 

The apartment building Kenma leads him to is old, but well-kept. Despite the lack of lights in the windows, it looks much more inviting than Tetsurou’s own residence.

Tetsurou follows Kenma down a short flight of stairs on the side of the building. It takes some shuffling and coordinated heaving, but they manage to move the cauldron over the threshold. Kenma shuts the door while Tetsurou rolls his shoulders.

“Good job, team,” Tetsurou says, shooting Kenma a quick smile. His response is a raised eyebrow. “That was difficult even for two people. What would you have done if you hadn’t encountered a kind stranger like me?”

“I’d have managed,” Kenma replies. He rolls the cauldron over to a corner before stepping further into the apartment, shedding his coat as he goes. “You can sit. I’ll make you tea. As thanks.”

“Oh. Sure.”

Slipping off his shoes, Tetsurou steps through the apartment. The living area opens right into the kitchen, only a small hallway leading off to what he assumed to be the bathroom and a single bedroom. Almost every space and surface is littered with papers and books and strange items. The walls are lined precariously with overflowing shelves. Potted plants sit behind the couch and table. It’s warm, to the point of coziness. There’s something faintly sweet in the air.

Tetsurou feels eyes on him. He turns and meets the steady gaze of a black cat, perched beside the grandfather clock mounted crookedly on the wall above the dining table. It doesn’t look away. Suppressing a shiver, Tetsurou stares back. His eyes start to water, but he doesn’t dare break eye contact.

“What are you doing?”

Startled by Kenma’s voice right beside him, Tetsurou jumps. The cat makes a small sound, shifting on its spot. Tetsurou is convinced it’s laughing at him.

“I, uh—Nothing! Just, your cat...”

Kenma blinks. “You can see Kuro?”

“Excuse me?”

“Kuro,” Kenma explains, pointing at the cat. Its eyes are closed even as it stretches languidly over the clock. “My familiar. It’s rare for humans to see him.” He peers up at Tetsurou. “Though I suppose you do have an abnormal amount of spiritual power in you. Mixed blood, hm?”

Tetsurou is suddenly all too aware that he is alone, defenseless, in a witch’s den. No one knows where he is. All he has is the small protective charm that Kai made him, back when they were in high school. He’s not even sure if it’s still effective. His ma always said he’s too impulsive for his own good, but Tetsurou wonders if maybe his curiosity really will kill him this time.

“Don’t worry,” Kenma says. “I don’t care. Though you should care more, I think. If I’m guessing right, your blood is highly valuable.”

“I’d like to think all of me is highly valuable.”

Kenma doesn’t dignify that with a response. The kettle whistles. Tetsurou goes back to staring uneasily at the cat. Something about the way it blinks leisurely at him strikes an all too familiar chord in him.

The tea Kenma returns with is served in chipped ceramic, the mugs mismatched and the kettle looking like it’s seen better days. But the smell of green tea wafts over along with the steam, and Tetsurou finds himself seated at the table before he realizes it. Kenma sits across from him. The cat slinks over and settles in Kenma’s lap.

Tetsurou takes the mug Kenma slides over. “Thanks,” he says.

Kenma hums. He takes a sip out of his own mug, and then lifts his gaze to Tetsurou again. “You can See,” he says.

“Uh,” says Tetsurou. “I guess?”

“Why do you wander around in the middle of the night by yourself with no charms or talismans to protect yourself then? The paper charm in your pocket is useless.”

“Oh.” Tetsurou looks down at said pocket, disappointed. “Darn, I was hoping it still had some use.” He pulls out the worn paper, folded into a star. He crumples it in his hands. “Guess that’s that.”

“Do you have a death wish?” Kenma asks flatly.

Tetsurou places his hands on his chest in mock shock. “I’m just a poor college kid, I can’t afford magic charms at the drop of a hat.”

“But it’s dangerous.”

“I seem to be doing alright so far.”

Two pairs of sharp golden eyes stare at him from across the table. Tetsurou fidgets, picking up his tea mug and then setting it down. Kenma sighs. The sound is exasperated, resigned. He doesn’t say anything, though, just sips at his tea and strokes the cat with his free hand.

For some reason, Tetsurou feels compelled to ease the tension in Kenma’s brow. He probably should have just said his thanks and politely excused himself. But his ma always said he didn’t know how to leave things well enough alone. _Trouble-magnet_ , she called him. Tetsurou stares at the worried-but-not-worried line of Kenma’s mouth. Tick, goes the clock on the wall.

“Hey,” he says, and Kenma blinks up at him. “I have a proposal for you.”

“We just met,” Kenma deadpans.

Tetsurou’s smile widens. “How about I help you with whatever odd jobs you need help with, and in return, you teach me how to protect myself against the night?”

“What makes you think I need help?”

Raising an eyebrow, Tetsurou gestures to the cauldron sitting against the wall. Kenma frowns harder. Gently nudging the cat aside, he picks up his empty mug and moves towards the sink. Tetsurou waits.

“You can take the couch,” Kenma says eventually. “There are blankets in the closet by the door. I’d rather not waste my time considering your offer if you go and get yourself killed trying to return home this time of night.”

“So that means you’re considering it then?”

“Don’t make me change my mind.”

The cat watches as Tetsurou grins, eyes on Kenma’s retreating back. The clock chimes, and outside, it starts to rain.

 

 

 

Tetsurou wakes up as soon as dawn breaks. Kuro the cat is nestled in the crook of his knees, and it crankily opens one eye when Tetsurou tries to stretch out the kinks in his back. He’s way too tall for Kenma’s cozy little couch.

“You think he’s awake yet?” he whispers to the cat.

The cat ignores him, hopping off the couch and disappearing down the hall. Tetsurou runs a hand through his hair. It’s sticking up in every direction again, but he’s long since given up trying to tame it. Even charmed spells don’t work on that one. World’s greatest mystery, indeed.

It takes him five minutes to fold up the blankets in neat little squares and put on his jacket. The cat is back by the time he finishes writing the note and stuffing his feet back in his shoes.

“Tell him to call me, yeah?” Tetsurou says. “I’ve got class today, but I’m free all night.”

His only response is a slow blink of those golden eyes.

Tetsurou places the note on the dining table next to the washed mugs. He casts one more glance around the small apartment, and then leaves as quietly as he came.

 

 

 

On Wednesday, a simple text with an address and time arrives halfway through his Japanese History class. Tetsurou sits up from his slouch, wide awake.

He grins.

 

 

 

In daylight, Kenma looks much smaller. He’s still wearing hoodies a size too large, hood pulled over his head, posture slouched as if to make himself even less conspicuous. He’s standing in the corner of the plaza, hunched over his phone.

“What are you hiding from?” Tetsurou asks, leaning against the wall next to the witch.

Kenma startles. Wide eyes flick up at him from under the hood, then back down at the phone. He straightens slightly. “Nothing. Have you eaten dinner yet?”

“No. Are you asking me out on a date?”

“No,” Kenma replies shortly. He starts walking, and Tetsurou follows.

The shop they enter is small, tucked between a bookstore and a music store. Tetsurou definitely would have missed it. The sign on the door says _Karasuno Bakery_ , and Kenma pushes it open with telling familiarity. Tetsurou’s stomach rumbles as soon as he steps inside.

“Kenma-kun, welcome back.” A silver-haired figure with a kind smile greets them. Their gaze is curious when it lands on Tetsurou, but they only offer a nod.

“Hello, Suga,” Kenma says. “Is it okay if I use the backroom?”

“Of course.”

Behind the bakery storefront is a witch’s lair. Tetsurou can’t help the shiver that goes down his spine when his eyes adjust to the dimness. Kenma settles in a chair and Tetsurou gingerly eases himself into the seat next to him. He smiles in thanks when Suga places a plate of toasted croissants in front of them.

“Am I allowed to be in here?” he whispers when Suga returns to the front room.

Kenma shrugs. “After you finish, I need your help bringing back some books.”

“So this is downpayment.”

Kenma rolls his eyes.

The croissants are fluffy, toasted just right, melting right in Tetsurou’s mouth. But Kenma’s clever eyes and quiet voice and the way he explains the ingredients for a basic safety charm makes it even more delicious.

When Kenma disappears up the stairs to find the spellbooks he needs to borrow, Suga joins Tetsurou in the backroom. Their silver hair seems to glow under the fairy lights strung up along the walls. They seems at once ageless and ancient, and Tetsurou would feel very afraid if Suga’s presence wasn’t immensely soothing.

“I thought I’d never see the day Kenma takes on an apprentice,” Suga says.

“Apprentice?”

Hazel eyes widen. “Oh, sorry, I didn’t mean to assume. It’s just that boy rather keeps to himself, and you smell like magic.”

“Ah.” Tetsurou shrugs. “We have... an understanding.”

“I see.” Suga smiles at him, and Tetsurou can feel himself smiling back without even registering before he catches himself. “Kenma’s a really capable witch, so you’re in good hands. But I only ask that you keep an eye out for him, too. I worry about him out there on his own sometimes, but he insists he’s fine. Take care of him, won’t you?”

Tetsurou blinks. He can hear Kenma’s soft footsteps coming back down, and Suga must have, too, because they give him one last smile before stepping away.

When they leave, there is a family of crows sitting on the telephone line above the bakery. Tetsurou can still feel their eyes on his back as they cross the street.

 

 

 

His schedule changes, after that. Just the slightest bit. He drops the part time job since the money mostly went to food, and Kenma provides that easily. He spends less and less time at his shitty apartment. Why would he, when Kenma’s apartment is so much nicer, so much cozier? Even if he’s still half-convinced the cat is out for his blood.

He follows Kenma home in the dark, and slowly, uncovers the magic that lives within the night.

 

 

 

On the weekends, Tetsurou finds himself taking the train to the last stop. A black cat waits for him on the empty platform, and he follows it to a cozy apartment under the stairs, where a quiet witch opens the door for him and asks him what took him so long.

 

 

 

He’s over at Kenma’s place again when something taps against the window. Kenma is slumped over the table, worn out by the scrolls he’s searching through, and the cat is hiding somewhere. Tetsurou casts a wary glance at the window again.

“Should I... get that?”

Kenma sighs. He slides off his chair and stomps over to the window.

A bird—no, two owls—come tumbling in. Kenma sidesteps them and watches as they drop to the floor. He slams the window shut, fixing the wards he’d taped to the ledges.

“What happened this time,” says Kenma exasperatedly.

Tetsurou watches in fascination as the owls right themselves, the bigger one wobbling until it hits the wall, while the other one sorts its feathers with a distinctly annoyed air. Then, it begins to speak.

“Kenma, I need your help,” the owl says. It sounds like a boy, much younger than Tetsurou expected. The other owl is still fumbling against the wall, so Tetsurou carefully steps over and helps it stand properly.

“Aw, thanks, man,” the owl says, sounding every bit like the party kids in Tetsurou’s classes. “All these feathers make it hard to move.” It looks up at Tetsurou. “I’m Bokuto, by the way.”

“Kuroo.”

“What? But Kenma said his cat is just a familiar—Wait, you’re not the cat.”

“No. And you’re not really an owl, are you?”

“Nah,” Bokuto says. “I just fucked up. Again.” The owl’s entire body seems to droop, shrinking to half its size. Before Tetsurou can figure out whether he should panic or ignore it, the other owl hops over and nudges Bokuto.

“Come on, Bokuto-san. It’s you that managed to get us to Kenma’s place. You might have caused the problem, but you’re fixing it, aren’t you?”

Tetsurou’s the only one that hears Kenma mutter, “ _I’m_ the one fixing it.”

He learns that the other owl—uh, witch-turned-owl—is named Akaashi, and he’s the only other witch that lives in this part of town. Bokuto is his apprentice, and though he’s trying his best, his clumsy efforts often results in the both of them knocking on Kenma’s door to undo the magic.

“Tetsurou,” Kenma says, and Tetsurou startles. He should be used to it by now, since Kenma has a bone to pick with honorifics and the cat has already claimed _Kuro_ , but Tetsurou can’t help it. Only his ma calls him that, these days. “Come help me.”

The owls are placed on the table, Bokuto fidgeting on his feet while Akaashi stares up at them rather owlishly. Tetsurou stands beside Kenma as he glares into a small pot on the stove. He hands him several ingredients, and they all watch the murky concoction in the pot bubble lazily.

“Come here,” Kenma says, and Tetsurou obeys automatically, until something pricks his finger and he flinches back.

“Ow! What the—”

“Sorry,” Kenma says, already stirring the pot, “I can’t do mine because I’m anemic but yours work just fine.”

Tetsurou blinks. He looks at the owls. They blink back. He decides to move on.

When the liquid in the pot has turned a startling purple colour, Kenma plops a couple drops on each owl. Then he pours the rest into a jar. “The effects should start showing in a few minutes,” he announces. “I’m going to go call the messenger crow. Suga will appreciate more of this for his store.”

“Ooh, can I come?” Bokuto hops off the table and onto Kenma’s shoulder, much to the witch’s annoyance. “I wanna see Hinata, too!”

Tetsurou watches in amusement as they head outside and up the stairs. He almost forgets that he’s not alone when Akaashi nips at his sleeve for his attention. Something about his steady, unblinking gaze unnerves Tetsurou, but he tries his best not to show it.

“If you’re going to be Kenma’s apprentice,” Akaashi says, “you should learn how to use magic yourself. You have the power to do so.”

“I’m not his apprentice.”

Akaashi hums. “Still. Kenma won’t teach you—rather, he can’t. But no matter how stubbornly he clings to his protection charms, he’s not immune to danger. Especially if he’s somehow picked up a stray cat like you.”

Tetsurou lets a slow smirk slip onto his face. “Are you offering, Owl-san?”

“No,” Akaashi says shortly. He hops off the table, wings fluttering slightly. “I just don’t want to see Kenma hurt, is all.”

Left alone in the kitchen, Tetsurou glances down at the protective pendant hanging around his neck. It’s a deep red, the colour of Kenma’s own pendant. His fist closes around it, and he thinks.

 

 

 

On a sunny Thursday when Kenma’s not around, Tetsurou meets his old friends at the temple the Kai family tends to. There’s a large grey cat spirit clinging to Yaku’s back.

“Don’t ask,” Yaku sighs. “We’ve tried everything but it seems Lev here imprinted on me.”

“Poor kid,” Tetsurou says, and barely dodges the kick Yaku aims his way.

“What did you want to talk about?” Kai asks.

“I’m assuming it’s something to do with the fact that you reek like a witch. Did you join a coven while we weren’t looking?”

Tetsurou smiles. “Nah. I’m only an apprentice.”

Yaku and Kai exchange a look. The cat spirit’s sharp green eyes watch him curiously.

“You know we don’t deal with that kind of magic.”

Tetsurou nods. He takes out two marble soda bottles full of freshly made healing elixir. “In exchange for this, I want you to teach me how to channel spirit energy.” He looks up and meets their eyes. “I want to know how to protect someone.”

His friends look at him for a long time. But then a fond smile is breaking across Kai’s face, and Yaku is slapping his back, a little too hard like he remembers.

“Come on,” Yaku tells him, “you know you didn’t have to bribe us.”

Tetsurou smiles. “I know.”

 

 

 

On Saturday, Tetsurou unlocks Kenma’s door to find various books and tomes floating through the apartment. He makes eye contact with the black cat, and they exchange an exasperated look.

Lightly swatting aside a book on the magical properties of strange fungi, Tetsurou closes the door behind him. “Kenma? You in here somewhere?”

“Tetsurou.” Kenma’s head pops up from behind the couch. He’s wearing glasses, but even behind those thick frames Tetsurou can see the bags under his eyes.

“Hey, you said you wouldn’t start without me.”

“You’re late.”

Tetsurou laughs. He plucks a thick hardcover book out of midair. “So, how far have you gotten with these dusty old spellbooks?”

“Ugh,” Kenma groans. He disappears back behind the couch. “Magic is too hard. Make it stop.”

“Says the witch,” Tetsurou says. He walks towards the kitchen. “Have you eaten yet? How about we research over some egg rolls?”

“The sweet kind?”

“Of course.”

Kenma climbs around the couch and settles into its cushions to wait. Kuro the cat curls up next to him. Tetsurou casts a smile in their direction and then rolls up his sleeves to work his magic in the kitchen.

 

 

 

They’re taking the last train back to Kenma’s place again. Only this time, there’s an extra pair of footsteps following them off at the terminal stop.

Kenma’s face is half-hidden by his thick woollen scarf, but his eyes are bright and sharp as they flick over the empty train station. “Tetsurou,” he says quietly.

“Yeah,” Tetsurou whispers back.

They walk slowly towards the ticket barrier. Just as they pass the empty help center, the shadows leap from the walls. The lights above them flicker helplessly. A rush of icy wind blows past, stealing Tetsurou’s hat and whipping his stupid hair into his face.

“Oi,” he says, “give that back.”

Kenma’s huddled behind him, sheltered from the worst of the wind, but his eyes are closed and his cheeks are turning red from the cold. The shadows snicker at them as they dance around the empty platform. Tetsurou reaches back for Kenma’s hand.

“Stay behind me,” he says over his shoulder. He doesn’t wait for an affirmation. Taking a deep breath, he goes through the steps that Yaku drilled into him. Calm his aura. Channel the energy inside him, allow it to run its course. Ready himself to receive. Step back. Step forwards. Steady breaths, steady gaze, steady hands. Volley it back.

When the spirits attack, he’s ready.

Kenma’s fingers are clenched tight against the back of his jacket. Tetsurou only registers this when the wind dies and the cold recedes. The shadows have dispersed. His chest is heaving and his heartbeat is thrumming louder than he’s used to.

“Tetsurou,” Kenma says, and his voice is shaking like Tetsurou has never heard it.

“Sorry,” he says, “did I scare you?”

Kenma shakes his head. His grip on Tetsurou’s jacket doesn’t loosen. “Let’s go home.”

“Okay,” Tetsurou says. “Okay.”

Their footsteps echo in tandem as they make their way back to Kenma’s place. Kenma doesn’t let go of his hand until they cross the threshold of his apartment.

 

 

 

On a chilly Monday morning, Tetsurou wakes up on Kenma’s couch. A warm weight rests on his chest, and a pair of gold eyes watch him.

“... Kenma?”

“Morning.”

“G’morning.” Tetsurou sits up slowly, careful not to disturb the cat still sleeping on him. He strokes the black fur absentmindedly. “Something up?”

Kenma hands him a cup of tea, still steaming. His gaze is quiet but unwavering. Tetsurou feels warm, and he’s pretty sure it’s not the tea.

“Tetsurou,” Kenma says, “I have a proposal for you.”

“Okay?”

“Move in with me.”

Tetsurou blinks. “Do I get to think about it?”

“No,” Kenma says flatly. He’s not looking at Tetsurou anymore, instead frowning at the space next to Tetsurou’s head.

Tetsurou looks at the boy in front of him. He looks at the cat purring on his lap. He looks at the way sunlight peeks in through the little window on the wall. He looks back at Kenma.

“Yeah,” he says, grinning. “I’ll take you up on that proposal.”

Kenma hums and turns his head, but not before Tetsurou catches a glimpse of his face.

He’s smiling.

 

 

 

Tetsurou still takes the last train home.

But now, he’s not alone. A small witch with a bad dye job sits in the seat next to him, and when they make their way through the quiet midnight streets, their fingers tangle together with a familiar ease.

The night welcomes them home.

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> -i always make it a point to have kenma call kuroo "kuro" bc it's one of my fave canon tidbits but then i got the idea for the cat and i'm just. congrats, milktea, you played yourself  
> -that plant kenma was talking to was supposed to be one of the seijoh kids, he's safekeeping them until oikawa and iwaizumi come back from a business trip  
> -@ official hq: thank you for the animal imagery  
> -i am. so weak?? for domesticity,, if my fics don't end with them moving in or sleepy cuddling, it is not a milktea™ fic
> 
> @puddingcatbae on tumblr/twitter


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